


Oblivious

by snickerdoodleskeletons



Series: In the Clear [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Non-Binary Frisk, Oblivious Papyrus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Skeleton Pregnancy (Undertale), skelepreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8334151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snickerdoodleskeletons/pseuds/snickerdoodleskeletons
Summary: Summary: Between working at a little well-known restaurant and being a full-time uncle, Papyrus might just have been a little neglectful regarding his own health. How else could he have caught such a persistent stomach bug?“Hey, Pappers!” Out of the kitchen peered Sans, a lopsided smile on his face. “How was work- oh wow, you look awful.”“Sans! How rude,” Papyrus huffed. “Work was great! I am merely very tired and hungry!”“You look the part,” Sans mumbled, vanishing back into the kitchen. “I made some of that carrot soup you taught me how to cook last week. Should be done in about ten minutes, maybe fifteen. How ‘bout you just stay on the couch and I’ll bring you some of that, hm?”





	1. Bugs and Pumpkins

**Author's Note:**

> The Sequel to In The clear. I don't know how I managed to write this out so quickly. Sorry for any errors! Also, warning, includes lots of pseudo science. Sorry~

****

Autumn had coloured the leaves in shades of red and yellow. The streets were still wet from the recent rainfall, dark and slippery in the crepuscule. Despite it being just a few minutes past six o’clock in the evening, not a single car was in sight, except one gleaming red sports car gliding down the empty main street.

Hands curled tight around the steering wheel, Papyrus squinted out the windshield. Perhaps he should have listened to Sans and looked into purchasing a pair of glasses. With a shake of the head, Papyrus guided his beloved vehicle to stand beside Sans’. After the birth of little Avenir, Sans had finally decided it was time for a family-friendly car, seeing as Grillby’s motorcycle was not childproof and Papyrus’ job required him to be able to travel into the city twenty-five minutes away.

Exiting the sports car, Papyrus made his way to the front door, fumbling with the keys for a minute before unlocking the door. After peeling himself out of his boots and coat, Papyrus ambled into the living room, where he slumped down across the large couch. Exhausted, Papyrus could not help the groan of relief as the scent of freshly made dinner wafted from the kitchen. Carrot soup, if his nose was not fooling him. Too tired to get up again and greet his brother properly, Papyrus called out, “Sans? I’m home!”

“Hey, Pappers!” Out of the kitchen peered Sans, a lopsided smile on his face. “How was work- oh wow, you look awful.”

“Sans! How rude,” Papyrus huffed. “Work was great! I am merely very tired and hungry!”

“You look the part,” Sans mumbled, vanishing back into the kitchen. “I made some of that carrot soup you taught me how to cook last week. Should be done in about ten minutes, maybe fifteen. How ‘bout you just stay on the couch and I’ll bring you some of that, hm?”

“Yes please.” Papyrus pushed himself upright, squeezing his sockets shut for a second when his head spun. “Ah… thank you, Sans!”

“No problem, bro.”

Patiently, Papyrus sat and waited. At some point, his vision started to swim, the fluffy white carpet melting into the surrounding parquet, the dark wood of the coffee table a large, blurry blob in the centre of the twisting kaleidoscope. Soon the undulating colour play became too much, and Papyrus closed his eyes once more.

A quiet cough startled Papyrus into looking up.

Sans had entered the living room, carrying a tray containing a bowl of soup and a glass of water, a concerned frown marring his face. Forcing a smile to hide a grimace, Papyrus cleared his throat. “Thank you for cooking, Sans!”

“You’re welcome,” Sans replied, setting the tray down in front of Papyrus. “You sure you’re okay, Pappers?”

“Yes, Sans.” Papyrus reached for the spoon, stirring it around the smooth, creamy soup within the bowl. “I am just tired!”

“Well, I still think you should go see a doctor. Be it for that eyesight problem you’ve got going on, or whatever the heck is zapping your energy. Just to make sure it’s nothing else, alright? You know how fickle magic can be.”

“I know, Sans,” Papyrus huffed, pushing a spoonful of soup past his teeth.

“I’m just worried, Pappers, you’ve been acting off for a while now. Is… is this because of Mettaton?”

“Huh?” Papyrus blinked, then shook his head and ate another bite. “No! I mean, of course I was sad he had to leave, but this is his big chance! And Frisk helped me set up the video call thing! So it’s all good. I’m fine, Sans. You’re a worrywart!”

“I’m not, I jus-,” the rest of Sans’ sentence was drowned out by a loud wail drifting down from upstairs. “Oh shoot… and they just went to sleep, too. Be right back, they’re probably hungry. Again.”

At eleven months, Avenir was eating a small variety of baby foods, but still relied heavily on consistent nursing. Born to two monsters whose physical form was so very dependent on a strong magical current, Avenir would need a while longer before their own magic was strong enough to support eating solely solid foods. The first few weeks after Avenir’s birth had been a rather stressful time for everyone involved. Who knew a monster so small, could be so very loud?

Papyrus was halfway through his bowl of soup, when Sans returned. Tucked against Sans’ chest and chugging away, was Avenir, their little hands curled into their mother’s bunched-up t-shirt. “I fed them an hour ago. They’re like a little black hole in the shape of a baby bones.”

“Maybe they are preparing for a growth spurt!” Papyrus offered. “You said I always ate a lot before I had one of those!”

“Hm,” Sans nodded. “Sounds plausible enough. We’ll see.”

Sitting down beside Papyrus, Sans shifted Avenir to the other side, grimacing as the child latched on with a little too much enthusiasm. Papyrus, while still a bit flustered whenever he witnessed the intimate act, could not help but feel a tiny bit fascinated. The entire process was soothing to watch, and yet brought forth an almost painful sense of longing, like an old ache which’s source had been forgotten.

Once, Papyrus had spoken to Sans about it, who had confessed to experiencing a similar sensation, yet dismissed it as the result of their nebulous past.

“Ow, pumpkin, don’t- geez.” Sans squinted at the dents left behind in the pliable ectoplasm of his breast. “No one’s going to take your food away from you, silly pumpkin. There’s no need to be mean. Mama’s not a chew toy.”

“I don’t know, Sans. You _are_ kind of squishy at the moment!” Papyrus crowed, setting the spoon down into the empty soup bowl.

“Not helping, Pappers,” Sans chuckled, nudging his elbow against Papyrus’ side. “Feeling better?”

“Yes! I told you, I was just hungry, Sans.”

“Yeah, well, remember when you had that magic blockage and your left leg kept falling off ‘cause it wasn’t being energized? I had to keep it attached with my own magic until yours stabilised again, and while my HP has been going up for the past year, I really don’t think I could keep that up for very long what with Avenir attached to my tits twenty-four seven.”

“Sans! Must you be so crude?” Papyrus cried, cheeks growing hot.

“What? You want me to call them something else? Boobs? Jugs? Melons? Milk bags, perhaps? Oh! I know. Baby buffets.”

“You are the worst!”

“’s that why you’re holding back a laugh?”

Papyrus snorted, burying his face in both hands. “I cannot believe you would say these things in front of Avenir, Sans!”

“Eh, kind of doubt Avenir’s too concerned about their Mama’s humour as long as they get to chew on me.” Sans shrugged, tugging his shirt back down when Avenir ceased their suckling for the time being. “Anything new happen at work?”

“Not really… Undyne and Alphys came by for a romantic lunch date! We didn’t have a lot of time to talk, but Alphys wanted you to know she has discovered another… uh… rupture? I’m not sure what she meant, but she was very adamant you know about it!”

Sans frowned. “I’ll call her later and talk to her about that. Thanks for telling me, Pappers.”

“A rupture sounds bad. Is it something dangerous?”

There was a second of hesitation on Sans’ side. “…It could be. We’ll have to see. I’m sure it’s going to be fine, though, we’ve got some practice dealing with these… ruptures.”

Forehead wrinkling, Papyrus crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why does it sound like you’re not talking about a rupture at all?”

“It’s… difficult to explain. What we’re dealing with is, in essence a rupture, but not in the sense of something you might come across in a broken pipe. It’s more of… perhaps an overlap in the spatial fabric that came apart and exposed something Alphys and I have been referring to as an immaterial cavity, or ‘void’.”

“…Void?”

“Yes. It’s hard to understand, neither humans nor monsters are made to comprehend the concept of nothingness. If I ask you to imagine “nothing”, you would likely go straight for an endless field of white, black, or even grey. And, it would be true. The void as I experienced it, is an ever changing blind spot, existing somewhere beyond the material world we live in. As Alphys and I theorised, the void should be acting like an asymptote, running alongside our reality, getting closer without ever touching it. However, for the past years, we’ve witnessed a number of these ruptures, allowing us glimpses into the void.”

Papyrus’ head was reeling, but he did his best to follow Sans’ explanation. He had never been envious of Sans’ intellect, having always been aware of his own strengths. Now, however, Papyrus wished he would have paid just a little more attention to his physics teacher at school. “You said these ruptures might be dangerous. In what way?”

“We’re not sure if the void is not a kind of anti-matter. We have been using the Core’s energy to patch the holes we find down in the Underground, but Alphys fears the condition might spread.”

Rubbing at his forehead, Papyrus sighed, “Anti-matter…?”

“Yeah, ah, when anti-matter and matter clash, it tends to go boom and leave… well, nothing behind, really. They basically annihilate each other.”

“Oh.”

“Heh, yeah. But, to be honest, I’m positive this situation is not going to happen anywhere but the underground. The world here works a bit differently than ours did down there, and I have a theory that the large amount of magic which was compressed into such a relatively small space for hundreds of years’ kind of ate away at the layer between time, space and this void. I think this might also have been the reason for Frisk’s ability to manipulate time.” Sans ran a hand over Avenir’s small skull, disrupting the flames flickering along the baby’s temporal lines.

The revelation of Frisk’s adventurous, and sometimes disturbing, journey through the underground had been a bit of a shock. However, Papyrus had wondered about the constant sense of déjà-vu he had been victim to down in the Underground. It had made Papyrus question his own sanity a number of times.

Papyrus nodded. “That… seems plausible?” It did. In a convoluted, headache-inducing kind of way.

“What I don’t understand is how they figured out how to see and use all of these… holes… to their advantage. At first I thought they must’ve had a guide, but… Frisk said there was no one but them the first time they fell.”

“Maybe… maybe they forgot? Or couldn’t see them because… because they’re… stuck in… that… void?” Papyrus proposed, a slight grimace on his face.

Papyrus knew he was more of an artistic type of skeleton, all this talk about anti-matter and spatial disruptions was making his head spin. Literally. Closing his eyes, Papyrus tugged his legs up onto the couch to hide his face against the bony kneecaps. Where was this headache coming from? He had been fine just minutes ago!

“Pappers? Are you okay?”

“My head hurts,” Papyrus mumbled.

“Maybe you should lie down, c’mon.” Sans stood, gently nudging at Papyrus’ shoulder.

“Okay.” Without protest, Papyrus curled up on his side, head resting on the large decorative pillow sitting against the armrest. The new position did alleviate the pain somewhat, though Papyrus was still far from comfortable.

Sans’ cool fingers came to rest against Papyrus’ forehead, brushing along the slight curve of his brow ridge. “You feel a bit warm… I think you should call in sick tomorrow, Pappers, you might be overworked.”

“But, Sans, I haven’t called in sick _once_!” Papyrus whined.

“Exactly. You deserve a break, Pappers. Your colleagues will be fine by themselves for a day or two. Now shush and hold your nibling for a second, I’m going to put the dishes away.”

A small, compact body was gently pressed into Papyrus’ arms. Instinctively, Papyrus adjusted Avenir into a more comfortable position, tucking the baby against his chest. For a brief moment, Avenir seemed to ready themselves for a deafening tantrum. Then, the child settled, grabbing onto Papyrus’ shirt and stuffing a handful of fabric into their mouth with a satisfied grunt.

Watching the baby suck and chew through half-lidded eyes, Papyrus ran a fingertip across Avenir’s pudgy cheekbone. A small spark of heat nipped at Papyrus’ phalange, prompting a soft laugh. While their magic was very much flame-based and manifested in an adorable mop of golden fire atop their head, Avenir’s bone structure very much resembled Sans’ own.

“You are the most adorable little baby bones I have ever seen,” Papyrus whispered.

Avenir squawked and Papyrus decided to take it as an enthusiastic agreement.

Ten minutes passed before the sound of clinking dishes ceased and Sans wandered back into the living room. Kneeling down beside the couch, Sans tilted his head to meet Papyrus’ eyes, the furrow of his brows betraying the smile on his face. “How’s your head?”

“Better,” Papyrus answered. “Maybe you’re right. Staying home tomorrow might be a good idea.”

“Yep. And you get to spend time with your nibling. I’m sure Avenir would love that. They haven’t seen you all that much for the past two weeks.” Sans touched his forehead against Papyrus’. “Want me to read you a bedtime story later on?”

“…Yes, please.”

Sans chuckled. “Alright. I’m gonna make some tea. You want a mug?”

Papyrus nodded. “What kind of tea are you making?”

“Uh… I think we have some of that apple lemon tea mix left?” Sans mused, pushing himself to his feet with a groan. “Geez, kneeling on the floor is not my thing. Maybe I should invest in some kneepads.”

Closing his sockets with a smile, Papyrus nuzzled at Avenir’s little skull, doing his best not to wake the dozing baby and ignore the incessant thumping still present within his own head. Whatever bug Papyrus had caught; it was an annoying one. Hopefully it was not contagious, otherwise there was likely going to be an outbreak at the restaurant, next. Papyrus gasped, opening his eyes to stare down at his nibling. What if he got Avenir sick?

“Sans!”

“Yeah?”

“What if I get Avenir sick!”

“…Good point. Maybe you should put them down in their little lounger for now? Just… ah… to be safe.”

“Alright,” Papyrus agreed, carefully sitting up.

Staying seated for a few seconds to allow his head to stop throbbing at the movement, Papyrus then stood and shuffled towards the mint green lounger standing beside the fauteuil. There, he knelt and transferred Avenir into the cushioned centre of the contraption, tugging the small blanket around the child’s body.  

Covered in little stars and planets, the blanket had been purchased by Papyrus with Sans’ fascination for all things space related in mind. Gift-wise, it had excited Sans more than it had little Avenir, of course, but Papyrus had not expected a then two-month-old to understand the various pictures printed onto something they sometimes chewed on. In addition, who knew if Avenir would ever share their mother’s love for stargazing.

After ensuring Avenir was tucked in and not in the process of throwing a tantrum for being placed in their lounger, Papyrus returned to the couch. Upon sitting down, he was overcome with a bout of nausea, his mouth filling with an abundance of saliva as Papyrus did his best to fight down the urge to gag. Keeping his mouth firmly shut and his arms curled around his middle, Papyrus dragged in one quick breath after the other.

A pair of cool, somewhat wet hands cupped his face and Sans’ distraught stare caught Papyrus’ own. “Pappers? Hey, what’s going on?”

“I… I felt… dizzy? Sick to my stomach…?”

“…Yeah, you’re definitely staying home tomorrow. Sounds like you got a stomach bug, or something. I’m gonna call Alphys tomorrow and ask if there’s anything we can do apart from feeding you soup and keeping you in bed.”

Papyrus gave a small hum in agreement. Going to work was not an option. There was no way he would _not_ end up infecting someone while at the restaurant. And, considering he worked with food of all things, it was also a very big health code violation. Shutting his sockets, Papyrus allow his head to grow heavy within Sans’ hold.

Sans sighed, rubbing his thumb across Papyrus’ cheekbone. “Geez, that bug’s really taking a toll on you, huh? C’mon, I’m gonna help you upstairs and get you ready for bed. Some sleep should do you good.”

“Okay,” Papyrus muttered.

Perhaps, tomorrow, he would feel a bit better.

 

 


	2. Pillows and Molasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the errors and inconsistency of the chapter, my eyes have been watery all day and I can't see very well, it's weird?

Papyrus did not feel better. Upon waking, Papyrus had found his headache still very much present and his pelvis felt as if someone had been doing their very best to tug it from his body. Every shift hurt, however slight.

Unsure whether he would be able to stand, Papyrus fumbled to reach his phone, lying silent on the nightstand beside him. Squinting at the too-bright screen, Papyrus tapped out a quick message to his boss, explaining his situation, before dropping the device to bury his face into his pillow with a quiet whimper. At least, the nausea seemed to have dissipated for the time being.

Thirty minutes later, the pain had exhausted Papyrus enough for him to be close to drifting off again, when the door to his bedroom was nudged open. Grillby’s gentle light spilled into the dim room, the flame elemental still clad in flannel pyjamas. “Papyrus? Sans said to check on you. How are you feeling…?”

“Everything hurts,” Papyrus mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow he had pulled close to his chest.

“Oh dear,” Grillby sighed, concern dimming his flames as he moved to stand beside the bed, one of his large hands moving to rest against Papyrus’ forehead. “The headache is still there, then?”

Eye sockets falling shut at the warmth seeping into his aching cranium, Papyrus breathed a quiet, “Yes…”

Neither Sans nor Papyrus possessed any notable amount of healing magic, just enough to infuse food with. Grillby, while not capable of significant acts of healing, did have a certain knack for soothing little, everyday aches. Thus, Papyrus was rather grateful to feel the headache grow a little less excruciating the longer Grillby’s palm continued to rest against his skull.

“I’ll tell Sans to bring you some sea tea, then, and to keep your curtains closed. Have you called in sick, yet?”

“M-hm. Sent a message to my boss.”

“Okay,” Grillby pulled away after a gentle rub to Papyrus’ forehead. “I’ll be leaving for work in half an hour. Sans is going to come check on you once Avenir has finished nursing. Is there anything you need before I go?”

Papyrus gave a slow shake of the head, suppressing the whimper threatening to spill from his mouth when the small motion sent a sharp spike of pain racing down the back of his skull. The sensation receded as quickly as it had come, allowing Papyrus to plaster a lopsided smile on his face and lift his hand to wave at the fire elemental. “I’m good, Grillby. Thank you, though!”

“If you’re sure…,” Grillby hummed, moving out of the door with a last, worried glance in Papyrus’ direction.

Honestly, why did Sans always insist on Papyrus being the worrywart in this household? Clearly, Sans and Grillby both were much worse than him! With a huff, Papyrus shut his eyes and proceeded to doze off once more, no wasting more than a single thought in regards to his complete lack of energy.

Less than an hour had passed when Papyrus was startled from his fitful rest.

Through hazy eyes, Papyrus took in the dim room around him. Curtains drawn and with no light to illuminate his darkened bedroom, the surrounding area appeared unfamiliar. Every shadow seemed to stretch and contract, like a dying creature drawing breath after tremulous breath.

Rubbing at his socket, Papyrus attempted to determine what had woken him. For the briefest of moments, he was certain someone else was in the room, hovering just beyond his line of sight. Between one blink and the next, the feeling was gone, leaving behind an unsettling discomfort somewhere within his chest cavity.

Eager to rid himself of the lingering irritation, Papyrus slid from the bed, shuffling towards the bedroom door. The headache had vanished, but the pain centred somewhere around the cotyloid cavity remained, pounding with each step Papyrus took. Upon exiting his bedroom, Papyrus made for the bathroom, intend on at least brushing his teeth before going downstairs.

As he finished scrubbing his teeth, Papyrus decided a shower was also in order. Tugging off the bone-patterned pyjamas, he was momentarily blindsided by the very opaque belly stretching from between the curved lines of his ribcage down over the cradle of his hips. The ectoplasm was a thick, non-transparent barrier, swirling with concentrated magic just beyond the firm surface. Not at all appearing like the see-through construct Sans had carried his child in, the new addition to his body sent a spike of fear through Papyrus’ chest.

There were a number of illnesses monsters could develop, from a mere cold to something aptly named magic rot. This specific accumulation of magic, however, was entirely new to Papyrus. It seemed like the flow of his magic had somehow become congested, causing everything to pile up in his abdomen. Perhaps this was also why his pelvis hurt, the ectoplasm felt kind of… heavy.

Climbing into the shower, Papyrus took a long shower, soothing away some of the anxiety cowering just beyond his sternum. By the time Papyrus made his way downstairs, freshly dressed in a soft pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, Sans appeared to have started cooking lunch, little Avenir dozing in the soft pink baby sling wrapped around Sans’ torso.

“Hello, Sans!” Papyrus greeted, limping his way towards the fridge.

“Heya, Pappers. Hope you don’t mind eating lunch for breakfast, it’s almost noon. How’re you feeling? Any better?”

“Yes, the headache is gone!”

“Alright, that’s good. Grillby said you were in a lot of pain, and when I came to check on you, you didn’t even stir.” Sans placed the wooden spoon he had been stirring with down onto a folded paper towel, turning to face Papyrus. “I was going to call Toriel in the afternoon, but you do look a lot better than before so… we’ll just see how this goes. How’s your stomach, do you still feel sick?”

“Not right now,” Papyrus replied after a moment of contemplation, pulling the carton of milk from the fridge with a small frown. “But… Sans, is it possible for magic to… pile up?”

“Sure. Doesn’t happen often, but sometimes, excess magic can build up instead of just leaking in controlled burst. It gets jammed and just stays wherever. Why do you ask?”

Abandoning his task of filling a glass with milk, Papyrus tugged his shirt upwards, exposing the ectoplasmic belly beneath. “Because I discovered this while showering!”

“Whoa,” Sans exclaimed, taking a few steps closer to peer at Papyrus’ stomach. “That’s… impressive. And it just appeared over night?”

“Yes!” Papyrus frowned. “Is that… normal?”

“To be honest, no. But magical pile up is different for everyone, and whatever bug you’ve caught might have exaggerated the build-up. Is it hurting you? Does the ectoplasm feel like it’s overstretched?”

Papyrus shook his head. “No. It just feels… heavy. It’s making my hips hurt!”

“Guess that’s expected, it does look pretty dense. That’s a whole lot of magic to accumulate in such a short amount of time, Pappers. You sure this wasn’t there before? Maybe just a faint outline? Magical residue along your bones? Something?”

“I… I do not pay that much attention to my own body, Sans! I wouldn’t know. Maybe? It is a definite possibility!”

Sans gave a hefty sigh, startling Avenir awake for a brief second. “You gotta be a bit more attentive, Pappers. I know you’re pretty healthy in general, and a magical accumulation isn’t life threatening, but it might be something worse next time.”

Ducking his head at the reprimand, Papyrus nodded, letting the t-shirt fall back down to cover his belly. “Is it going to go away?”

“Eventually, yes. It could be that your magic tried to focus on getting rid of that stomach bug of yours and overdid it a bit. A lot. I’m sure it’ll be fine once you start feeling better. Now, go drink your milk. I’ll finish up cooking and then we can have lunch together. Oh, and, tell me if you start feeling sick again, okay?”

“I will, Sans!” Papyrus promised, plucking his milk glass off the counter and returning the carton to the fridge before retreating from the kitchen into the living room.

There, Papyrus sat on the large couch and turned on the TV, nipping mindlessly at the rim of his milk glass. If his body was exerting so much magic to battle a simple stomach bug, then Papyrus was certain he would be better in no time! Yes. Papyrus was certain he would be fine by tomorrow morning.

Until then, he would make himself useful by keeping an eye on Avenir, should Sans need a break.

“Hey, Pappers,” Sans said quietly from the kitchen doorway. “Lunch is ready. We gotta be quiet though, Avenir’s just fallen asleep.”

“Alright!” Papyrus stood, taking care not to move too quickly as he lumbered past Sans into the kitchen to sit in his usual seat.

Two bowls of hot pumpkin stew had been placed upon the wooden table top. A colourful mix of reds, greens and a lot of orange, the food looked and smelled delicious. Papyrus felt rather proud of Sans for putting so much effort into learning a trade his brother had never shown a clear interest in, apart from a single attempt at a quiche. Sans settled in the chair across from Papyrus, slow and careful in order to not jostle the sleeping baby.

“Enjoy,” Sans whispered, reaching for his spoon with a grin. “Hope it’s at least somewhat tasty.”

“I’m sure it is, Sans! The soup last night was delicious, after all!” Papyrus assured and proceeded to shovel a spoonful of creamy stew into his mouth.

As expected the stew was delightful. It might have benefited from a little more pepper, but Papyrus was not about to mention something so minor. In relative silence they ate, spoons clinking against the porcelain and filling the air with an almost harmonious arrangement of clinks and clanks. Sans finished first, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied hum as he rearranged Avenir within their sling.

“Oh, shit” Sans raised his head to address Papyrus with a grimace. “Totally forgot. I’ll need to pick Frisk up from school later on. You gonna be okay keeping an eye on Avenir in the meantime?”

“Yes, of course!” Papyrus agreed, then frowned. “You should not swear in front of Avenir, Sans!”

“I’d heed your advice, but Avenir’s not even a year old. I’m sure it’ll be a while before they start hurling curse words back at me.” Sans winked.

Unlike humans, monsters developed slowly during the first years of their life. Magic took a long time to stabilize and grow, meaning, everything else was placed on the backburner until a baseline of strong, consistent magic production was established. Depending on the strength of the child’s magic, this could take anywhere from two to four years. Which was why Papyrus had been rather shocked when Frisk’s age was first revealed. After all, had Frisk been born a monster, they would’ve been a small toddler, still.

“Ugh, Sans.”

“Heh, c’mon, Paps, don’t be such a grump.” Sans smiled. “I’ll be leaving in about twenty minutes or so. There’s a bottle in the fridge for Avenir, should they get hungry and some sea tea for you, if your stomach acts up again. You want some more stew?”

“Yes, please,” Papyrus replied, holding out his bowl for Sans to ladle more pumpkin stew into. “Will you be taking Frisk home, or bring them here?”

“Gonna bring them here. Tori’s attending one of those parent-teacher meetings again and won’t be home ‘til later.”

“Oh, I see!” Setting the filled bowl back down, Papyrus stirred through the thick concoction for a moment before speaking again, “I hope Avenir won’t cry when you leave this time around… it breaks my heart to see them so upset!”

A pained expression crawled over Sans’ face. “Oh, gosh, I didn’t even think about that. My poor little pumpkin. I’m just glad they don’t react that way anymore whenever Grillby goes to work. We’ll just… have to make sure they stay asleep until I have left to avoid another meltdown. I’m pretty sure the neighbours were about to call the royal guard on us last time.”

“Don’t be silly, Sans,” Papyrus scoffed. “The royal guard no longer exists!”

Sans chortled, the troubled looked vanishing from his features. “I know, Pappers. Wanna help me get Avenir settled in their lounger? When you’re done eating, I mean.”

Mouth full, Papyrus could only nod. When it came to extracting Avenir from their mother, two pairs of hands were always better than one.

A number of rather impressive acrobatics and a lot of luck later, Avenir was tucked into their lounger, still fast asleep. Papyrus stood, arms akimbo, beside his brother, who was doing his best to zip up his jacket without pinching the front of his shirt without getting the fabric caught between the metal teeth. Despite the fact the jacket was just a little too tight for Sans’ current body type, he was refused to even consider buying a new one, stating it would be a waste of money to accommodate something like a temporary pair of breasts.

“Drive carefully, please,” Papyrus said as Sans succeeded in closing the jacket.

“I will,” Sans smiled, giving Papyrus a firm squeeze around the middle before exiting the house, the door falling shut right after.

Once the car had vanished from the driveway, Papyrus returned to the living room to sit down on the couch. After determining watching a bit of TV would not disturb the sleeping baby, Papyrus settled down to spend however long Avenir stayed asleep watching whatever show caught his attention.

Just twenty minutes into something which started as a cooking show and turned into a tearful sibling reunion, Avenir woke. Prepared for a major tantrum, Papyrus was surprised to hear the child begin to coo and wave their little arms about. Intrigued, Papyrus stood and approached the lounger containing his nibling. Their glowing eye lights were directed towards the ceiling, shifting back and forth as if following something Papyrus could not see.

“What are you looking at, pumpkin? Did your dear Mama stick a sock onto the ceiling fan again?” Papyrus mumbled, tilting his head to follow his nibling’s gaze. “He really needs to stop doing that, it’s not very sanitary…”

The ceiling fan was blessedly free of socks. However, there was something… wrong.

The flat surface of the ceiling above seemed to warp outwards, as if the entire structure had begun to liquefy. Papyrus rubbed at his right socket as it began to itch, his vision blurring as it had done hours before. Stumbling as a sudden dizzy spell overtook him, Papyrus only just managed to throw out his hands to catch himself before he landed face-first on the hard parquet floor.

The loud thud must have startled Avenir, for the child started to cry just seconds after Papyrus’ fall. Head still spinning with nauseating vertigo, Papyrus crawled forward to kneel beside the lounger, touching a hand to Avenir’s flaming skull. “Ssh, pumpkin, it’s alright… you… you’re okay, Uncle Pap just tripped, it’s okay…”

Oh, but Avenir was having none of it.

With each passing second, the baby’s cries became louder, thick, golden tears streaming down Avenir’s flushed cheeks. Desperation clawed at Papyrus’ chest as he did his best to shake off the weakness weighing down his bones, but to no avail. Darkness began to creep into the edges of Papyrus’ vision, opaque and viscous, like molasses, swallowing the colours of everything it touched.

Then, from one moment to the next, the sensation was gone, wiped away like sand from a smooth, flat surface. Disturbed, Papyrus met Avenir’s tear-filled gaze, the baby oddly quiet apart from the occasional hiccup. The sight threatened to break Papyrus’ metaphorical heart, the soul within his chest quivering as he brushed away the coagulating tears having streaked down his nibling’s cheeks. “Oh, it’s alright, little Avenir! Uncle Pap is alright, he was just clumsy! Everything’s alright now, please, stop crying, your Mama will be worried otherwise… and maybe think your Uncle Pap’s not able to take care of you. Which would be bad.”

Avenir coughed, a glob of drool dribbling down their chin. Unable to help the chuckle spilling from his mouth, Papyrus reached out and pulled Avenir from their lounger against his own chest. After struggling to get to his feet for a good minute, Papyrus made his way into the kitchen where he deposited Avenir in their high chair and moved away to warm up a bottle for the sniffling child.

Papyrus had not even shut the door to the fridge when the sound of the front door opening halted him in his tracks. He had not even realised enough time had passed for it to be time for Sans’ return. Just minutes after the front door had fallen shut, a pair of socked feet approached the kitchen. Smile in place and hair a mess, Frisk entered the kitchen, pressing a kiss to Avenir’s skull before looping their thin arms around Papyrus’ middle.

“Why, hello, dear Frisk! How was school?”

Frisk lifted one hand to sign, _Good!_

“I am glad to hear that!”

Frisk gave a quick nod, then frowned as they poked at Papyrus. _Why do you have a belly?_

Fu-…dge.


	3. Teeth and Freckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, you guys, real life is a horrible thing to deal with. If you find errors or inconsistencies, please tell me, it's been so long since I wrote anything, I might be mixing up names, characters, whatever. :) Enjoy!

Woken by the monotone ring of his phone’s alarm clock, Papyrus took a good five minutes to react to the annoying cacophony spilling from his phone’s speaker. The thought of just rolling over and going back to sleep was just about irresistible, but it was Saturday and Papyrus had promised to take Sans grocery shopping. They were rather low on just about everything needed to make a basic meal.

Two weeks had gone by since Papyrus had found his body wrought with constant fatigue and burdened by a belly drum-tight with excess magic. Within those fourteen days, the two present symptoms had been joined by a number of other ailments, such as a consistent queasiness in the late evening hours, aching joints and a stuffy nose. Six days prior, Chenolii, the owner of the restaurant Papyrus worked in, had put her foot down and cut his hours, demanding he take it easy until he felt better.

Despite Papyrus’ initial unwillingness to acknowledge his need for some relaxation, he soon came to appreciate Chenolii’s intervention, when his struggle with exhaustion turned into diurnal fainting spells. At least Papyrus was now able to spend more time with both Sans and Avenir.

With a grunt, Papyrus finally scooted to the edge of the bed, turned off the alarm and proceeded to peel himself out of his blanket cocoon. On aching feet, Papyrus made his way to the bathroom, flicking the light switch and squinting into the unnatural brightness flooding against his sockets. It was these moments Papyrus understood Sans preference for getting up late, when the sky outside was no longer ink blue and demanded for a light to be turned on in order to avoid toe-related injuries.

After a quick shower followed by a mad scramble to wrap his fluffy bathrobe around his shivering body, Papyrus moved towards the sink in order to brush his teeth, only to be shocked into absolute stillness upon catching sight of his own face in the mirror. Scattered along the sharp jut of his cheekbones and the slight curve of his forehead was a number of squash coloured freckles. Against the off-white of Papyrus’ skull, the smattering of spots stood out like a blooming rosebush in the winter.

The freckles themselves were nothing Papyrus had not dealt with before, but their sudden reappearance was unnerving to say the least. After seven years without a single spot to colour his body, Papyrus was at a loss as to what had prompted their return. Perhaps they were another random symptom belonging to the collection of issues he had gathered over the past weeks?

Heaving a sigh of resignation, Papyrus finished his morning ablutions and proceeded to get dressed for the day ahead.

The house was swaddled in early morning silence, dark and with an atmosphere like soft cotton. Once downstairs, Papyrus took care not to bump into any of the toys left lying around, and decided against starting the coffee machine, in order to avoid waking everyone else before eight o’clock rolled around. Instead, Papyrus quietly prepared a mug of hot chocolate to chase the chill from his bones.

Soon enough, Papyrus was seated at the kitchen table, a mug of hot chocolate between his cold hands. The steam rising from the porcelain container curled and twisted in the air before Papyrus’ face. The clock above the kitchen door ticked, each monotone sound lulling Papyrus deeper into a tired daze. Said daze did not last long, when a familiar sense of someone hovering just beyond his line of sight overcame Papyrus. As Papyrus’ eyes focused, he noted the odd way the steam would be blown sideways in rhythmic intervals, as if someone sitting to his left was breathing over the mug to cool down the hot liquid within.

Frozen where he sat, Papyrus watched the steam waver to the right once more, before the strange phenomenon ceased. With a shake of the head, Papyrus forced himself to rationalise what had happened. Perhaps he should have tried to get another hour of sleep, instead of getting up before everyone else. Chuckling at his own antics, Papyrus took a careful sip from the hot chocolate.

An hour and a half went by before Grillby joined Papyrus. Dressed in sweatpants and a pullover, flames a dark, tired crimson and missing his signature glasses, Grillby looked the picture of an overworked young father.

“Ah… I am guessing you didn’t have a very good night?” Papyrus inquired, wincing when Grillby lifted his head to gaze at him through narrowed eyes. “Yes, I thought as much.”

“Avenir would not sleep. They didn’t cry but… they wouldn’t go to sleep, or let us sleep, for that matter,” Grillby sighed, running a hand over the flickering flames atop his head. “Nothing we did helped, feeding, playing, singing, nothing. Everytime we tried to put them in their own bed, they would whimper and cling. In the end, we just put them in our bed but it still took until three in the morning for them to fall asleep.”

Papyrus winced. “Do you think they’re teething again?”

Grillby nodded. “Sans says it’s likely.”

“Maybe I should go grocery shopping by myself, then? If Sans has been awake as long as you have, I doubt he will be awake before ten, or so.”

“As much as I appreciate your offer, I don’t think Sans would forgive me if I send you out on a grocery run by yourself, considering you had a fainting spell just yesterday morning, Papyrus.” Grillby’s jagged mouth tilted into a lopsided smile, his flame licking just a little higher than before.

Deflating where he sat, Papyrus nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

Grillby inclined his head. “I think I’ll try to get some more sleep. Didn’t you have a video chat with Mettaton scheduled for this morning?”

“I do? I do!” Papyrus exclaimed, almost toppling the half-empty mug of hot chocolate sitting on the table in front of him in his enthusiasm, before slumping back down into his seat and huffing out a sigh. “He said he would be working late this week; he might be too tired to chat.”

“You won’t know until you go upstairs and see for yourself.” Grillby covered his mouth as an enormous yawn forced his jaws apart. “I’m going to lie back down. If I’m not awake in three hours, come wake me up, alright? No going shopping on your own, or I won’t be standing up for you when Sans decides to ground you for the next four weeks.”

Papyrus grumbled. “I know, I know. Sleep well, Grillby.”

“Thank you. Say ‘hello’ to Mettaton for me,” Grillby smiled, before standing and shuffling back upstairs.

Once the house had fallen silent after Grillby had shut the bedroom door behind himself, Papyrus gulped down the rest of his, now lukewarm, hot chocolate and rose to carry the mug to the sink. Rinsing out the mug, Papyrus contemplated whether he should follow Grillby’s advice and set up the planned video chat with Mettaton. While Papyrus did miss his boyfriend terribly, he was also well aware of just how busy Mettaton was right now, considering he was shooting a number of complicated scenes for his debut movie all the way over in New Zealand.

Setting the mug into the dishwasher and wiping his hands dry on the clean dishtowel hanging from a hook close by, Papyrus trudged out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Seating himself at his desk after shutting the bedroom door behind himself, Papyrus started up the laptop sitting there. Somewhat nervous, Papyrus brushed his pullover back into order, sat down and, after taking a deep breath, clicked the small icon in the left hand corner of the screen.

The program took a few seconds to load, but when it did, Papyrus felt an inexplicable sense of relief upon noticing the small, green button beside Mettaton’s profile picture, indicating his boyfriend to be online. Hesitating for just a moment longer, Papyrus pressed the call button. Within a heartbeat, the call was accepted and Mettaton’s smiling face appeared on screen, one gleaming shoulder exposed by the worn shirt sliding off it.

“Papyrus!” Mettaton greeted. “Oh, how I’ve missed your beautiful smile! How are you, sweetheart?”

Papyrus grinned, feeling rather silly that he had been so anxious over calling Mettaton. “I am well, how are you? Are you sure you’re not too tired to talk?”

“Absolutely, I am wide awake and I’ve been looking forward to you calling all day,” Mettaton assured, leaning forward with a confused hum, “Sweetheart, are those freckles on your face?”

“What- oh! Yes, they are. You see, I’ve had freckles before we moved to Snowdin, but since it snowed so often, we didn’t get a lot of… that… what did Sans call it again… oh, artificial sunlight! So they just ended up disappearing altogether. But, today, I woke up, and there they were again. It’s all very mysterious and strange,” Papyrus confided, shaking his head with a tiny frown. “I’m surprised you saw them, Grillby certainly didn’t! Then again, he wasn’t wearing his glasses.”

Mettaton chuckled. “Well, I think they are very cute, sweetheart. They suit you well. My colleague, Cassie, also has freckles, and when I complimented them, she said they were worse in the summer, because of all the sunlight.”

“Oh! So it’s like that for humans, too?”

“Seems like it, sweetheart. They might have returned because you’ve been spending a lot of time outside.”

“I only noticed them this morning, it’s like they appeared over night!”

Mettaton hummed, tapping his chin. “Oh? Well, you did say you had a magical build-up the last time we spoke. Could it be a symptom caused by it?”

Papyrus gave a quick shrug. While he had not been able to lie to Mettaton regarding the presence of the magical build-up, Papyrus had omitted some of the more worrying symptoms which had arisen the last time they spoke. The reason for this was simply to avoid having Mettaton become concerned to the point where Papyrus’ boyfriend decided to fly straight back home, abandoning the career he worked so hard for.

In addition, Sans seemed convinced Papyrus’ tendency to exude large amounts of magic at any given time had simply caught up with him and there was nothing to lose one’s head over just yet. “Might be! But enough of me, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m fabulous, sweetheart, New Zealand is beautiful! We should definitely come visit it together some time, you would love it. Everything is so very green, the lakes are gorgeous, and I cannot wait to go shopping tomorrow,” Mettaton vanished from the screen for a moment, returning with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “How’s little Avenir? Still the sweet sunshine everyone’s been praising them as?”

Papyrus grimaced. “Apparently, Avenir has decided teething for the second time warrants keeping their parents awake all night… we were supposed to go grocery shopping in an hour, but I’m afraid we won’t be leaving the house until at least noon. Grillby was awake for maybe fifteen minutes, but he went back to bed after telling me not to go shopping by myself unless I want to risk being grounded for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh my,” Mettaton laughed. “Sounds like they’ve had a rough night! I’m surprised Grillby even got up at all. I don’t think I would’ve been able to roll out of bed!”

“Speaking of Grillby, he wants me to tell you ‘hello’ from him!”

“Oh! Well, once he wakes you, you can tell him ‘hello’ from me, too,” Mettaton smiled, leaning his chin atop his palm. “Tell me about your week?”

“Of course! But you have to tell me about yours, once I am done!”

“Yes, absolutely, sweetheart!”

For the next few hours, they spoke, sharing experiences and amusing stories of their past week. Mettaton ended up leading the conversation most of the time, having so many interesting things to tell. Papyrus did not mind, fascinated by the tales of long plane flights, endless oceans, and hilarious misunderstandings caused by their Australian director, who was very fond of using obscure metaphors to confuse the world around her.

By the time Papyrus convinced a yawning Mettaton to sign off and go to bed, it was a little past eleven o’clock. They exchanged soft goodbyes and air kisses before ending the call, the video chat window minimising with a soft chirp on Papyrus’ end. For a moment, Papyrus sat in silence, warm and relaxed. Then, Papyrus stood and moved towards his door in order to peer outside and determine whether anyone else had woken yet. Silence greeted him.

Shrugging, Papyrus left the door ajar and returned to his desk. An hour went by before Papyrus was startled out of browsing YouTube by a gentle knock to his open bedroom door. Twisting around in his seat, Papyrus met the half-lidded gaze of his older brother, dressed in pyjamas, still, clutching a wide awake Avenir to his chest. “Hey, Pappers, been awake long?”

“Indeed I have! Is Avenir feeling better?”

“I think so, they’ve been very adamant about being fed as soon as I woke up,” Sans replied, moving further into the room to sit down at the edge of Papyrus’ bed. “Been a while since I’ve seen you covered in freckles, didn’t even notice them popping up.”

“They appeared overnight,” Papyrus admitted, rubbing at his jutting cheekbone. “Mettaton assumes they’re a symptom of the magic pile-up.”

“Huh, could be, yeah. But freckles can appear pretty quickly, so there’s no reason to assume it’s the magic accumulation messing with you. It’s been sunny outside for the past four days and since you don’t spend all that much time staring into the mirror normally, you might have missed them appearing just like everyone else. That’s probably all there is to the mystery freckles,” Sans assured, offering a quick wink and shifting Avenir to lie against his shoulder.

“…Are you sure?” Papyrus inquired.

The magic build-up had already proven to be unpredictable, who knew what other symptoms might present themselves?

“Pretty sure. We’ll keep an eye on it, anyway, though, just to be safe.” Tilting his head, Sans nuzzled at Avenir’s flaming skull. “Anyway, I’ll be taking a quick shower and then we can go grocery shopping. I’m still contemplating leaving Grillby home so he can get some more rest, he was awake the longest and didn’t even grunt when I tried to wake him up just now.”

“He was awake a few hours ago and came downstairs for about fifteen minutes before returning to your bed.” Papyrus scooted his chair closer to the bed, reaching out to brush his fingertips over Avenir’s pudgy cheeks. “I offered to go grocery shopping by myself, but Grillby said you’d ground me if I tried.”

“And Grillby was absolutely right about that.” Sans small hand landed atop Papyrus’ skull with a soft clank. “You’re not getting behind a steering wheel until those dizzy spells are gone for good.”

Papyrus grumbled and plucked Avenir from Sans’ arms. “Go take a shower so we can go buy some food. And don’t forget to leave a note for Grillby!”

Sans stood with a nod, bumping his skull against Papyrus’ forehead and caressing Avenir’s tiny, clenched hand before leaving the bedroom. Meeting Avenir’s large, gleaming gaze, Papyrus said, “Your Mama is overprotective, little Avenir. Remember that when you decide to become independent one day. You might find it is a lot harder than you think.”

Avenir gurgled, smacking their left arm against Papyrus’ chest.

“I am happy you agree, Avenir!”

It did not take long for Sans to return, freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a thick sweater. Together, they made their way downstairs, bundled up – taking great care in ensuring Avenir would not be cold – before exiting the house. Once the front door was locked and Avenir was safely fastened in their car seat, they were off.

“How’s Mettaton doing, by the way?” Sans asked, after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “You had a video chat scheduled for today, right?”

“Yes! He’s doing very well, New Zealand seems like a very beautiful place judging from what Mettaton has told me,” Papyrus responded. “He will be sending postcards soon.”

“Sounds great.” Sans nodded, glancing into first the rear view and then the side view mirror before flicking the indicator in order to make a right turn. “Glad to know he’s having fun, even if he’s so far away from home. Did he say when he’ll be back?”

“Mettaton said he might be coming back in two weeks or so, depending on how the scenes turn out!”  

“Huh, that’s nice. Will you be able to meet up?”

“Probably, we’ll have to see.” Papyrus’ chest heaved with a deep sigh. “I miss him a lot, Sans.”

Sans gave a soft coo, touching his hand to Papyrus’ forearm. “It’ll be okay, Pappers. He’ll be back in no time.”

Papyrus nodded, itching at his sternum as he directed his gaze out of the window once more. “I know. It’s still hard not to be able to just go to his house and say hello, or hug him, or snuggle on the couch while we watch silly TV shows. We spent so much time together before he left, and it’s been a while since then, but it’s still hard. I’m not a traveller, Sans, I can’t imagine moving around the world every other month just to be with Mettaton. How do I deal with this?”

“Hey,” Sans flicked his finger against Papyrus’ cheek. “This is his first movie. Who’s to say he won’t be sick of spending most of his time in a plane by the end of filming, hm? You’ll figure something out, Pappers, you always do. We’ll be here, no matter the outcome.”

Swallowing down the inexplicable tears threatening to clog his throat, Papyrus inclined his head. “You’re right. Thank you, Sans.”

“Anytime, Pappers. Now, chin-up, we don’t want Avenir to start sobbing again because their favourite uncle is sad.” Sans fell silent with a frown, then shook his head. “No, you know what? Cry if you need to. I can deal. I’m a professional at dealing with tears.”

Papyrus snorted, covering his face with both hands as he began to laugh. “Sans, no!”

“What? I have tissues and some stuffed animals to snuggle! Just say the word, Pappers!”

“Sans!”


	4. Buttons and News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I live and I have no idea how.

His favourite pair of jeans would not button.

Slack jawed, Papyrus stood before the floor length mirror beside his wardrobe, hands fluttering over the gaping chasm his belly had created between the button and its corresponding hole. Not even the zipper would budge, leaving the small teeth to dig into the taut ectoplasm. Frustration began to well up within Papyrus’ chest, threatening to spill from his eyes in gloppy tears.

While it was Sunday, and thus left Papyrus with no obligation to go outside, he still had intended on visiting Undyne for one of their renewed cooking sessions. Of course, this time around, Papyrus was the designated teacher and Undyne the – rather enthusiastic – student who had only recently graduated from smashing every vegetable in sight with her fist. How was Papyrus supposed to make the drive without a fitting pair of jeans available?

Oh, this was a disaster. Papyrus groaned, scrubbing at his cheeks with both hands.

A gentle knock sounded at his bedroom door. Papyrus offered a grunt of encouragement, twisting where he stood to meet Sans’ concerned gaze and fast-fading smile. “Hey, Pappers, breakfast is ready. You alright?”

“My jeans don’t fit,” Papyrus grumbled, gesturing at the tragedy happening around his waist.

“Oh,” Sans took a step further into the room. “Wow, that’s… definitely not fun. Want me to get you one of Grillby’s trousers to see if they might fit?”

Papyrus nodded, “Yes, please.”

With a quick nod, Sans retreated once more, returning a moment later with a pair of ironed slacks and a belt. Papyrus accepted both, setting them down onto the bed before peeling off the too-tight jeans, uttering a series of grunts and groans as he went. Had the ectoplasm crept downwards? Papyrus could have sworn the sockets of his hips had not been covered by the expanding plasma the night before.

Miffed, Papyrus prodded at the taut barrier. “You are a nuisance.”

The door re-opened, admitting Sans into Papyrus’ room once more and a pair of dark slacks was held out towards Papyrus with a lopsided grin. “I found these, they should fit you alright since they’re a bit short on Grillby.”

“Thank you,” Papyrus groaned, accepting the garment with a relieved smile.

“You’re welcome, Pappers,” Sans replied, turning around to give Papyrus some privacy. “By the way, Undyne called. Said she’d pick you up at eleven-thirty for your cooking session.”

Confused, Papyrus buttoned his trousers and moved to find a belt. “Why would she pick me up? I always drive to her house! Did she say anything else, Sans?”

“Not really, maybe she just wanted to do you a favour. She didn’t sound any different than usual, if that’s what you meant.”

“Yes, that’s probably it!” Papyrus hummed, finagling his belt into the unfamiliar loops of the slacks. “Perhaps she finally bought that new car she’s been talking about?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sans hummed. “Could be. Ready to go downstairs?”

With a firm nod, Papyrus followed his brother out of the bedroom and down the broad staircase. Upon entering the kitchen, Papyrus was confronted with the sight of Grillby attempting to keep little Avenir from reaching for every piece of food laid out on the kitchen table. Not an easy task, seeing as Avenir was rather talented in wiggling his way out of all kinds of situations, acting much like a worm burrowing through thick earth.

“Good morning, Grillby and Avenir!” Papyrus exclaimed, swooping in to press a kiss to Avenir’s skull.

“Good morning, Papyrus,” Grillby chuckled, nudging a tiny spoonful of applesauce against Avenir’s mouth. “Have you slept well?”

“I have! Though I did have a strange dream involving liquid liquorice and a lot of large pipes.”

“I’m not surprised,” Sans sighed, slumping into the chair beside Papyrus. “You ate so much soup last night, I thought you were going to explode.”

“I was very hungry,” Papyrus agreed, reaching for a slice of toasted bread, and scraping a dollop of butter across the browned surface. “And the soup was very good.”

Sans’ warm hand rubbed across the top of Papyrus’ cranium, bone clacking against bone for a moment, before Sans moved away to take a sip from his glass of orange juice. “Grillby and I will be taking Avenir for a check-up at the doctor’s today. We should be back by the time you come back home, but if we aren’t, assume we went to visit Tori. Been craving Butterscotch-Cinnamon pie for a week now.”

“ _Craving?_ ” Papyrus grinned. “Sans, you sound like you are baking a very different pie of your own right now.”

“What?” Sans was visibly baffled for a moment, then caught on with a laugh. “No, Pappers, no bun in the oven for this skeleton. I want to get Avenir weaned before I even _think_ about having another baby.”

Grillby gave a soft snort, the noise prompting a raspberry from Avenir and a subsequent splatter of applesauce down the child’s front. “Definitely.”

Breakfast continued as usual, loud and interspersed with good natured ribbing. By the time eleven-thirty rolled around, Papyrus was already decked out in thick boots and winter coat, and busied himself by looping the endless length of his favourite scarf around his throat. A mere second after Papyrus had finished wrapping the thick knitwork, the distinct combination of three quick, hard knocks sounded from the front door, indicating Undyne’s arrival.

Clamping his gloved hand over the door handle, Papyrus called out a quick, heartfelt goodbye towards the living room, waiting just long enough to have it returned, before stepping out into the cold. Undyne stood off to the side, face split by a toothy grin, the gossamer strands of the fin sprouting from the top of her head hidden beneath a knitted hat and both hands tucked into a pair of leather gloves. There was something familiar about the bulkiness of her winter coat, reminding Papyrus of the lumbering armour she had worn Underground.

“Hey, Pap,” Undyne greeted, holding out her arms and drawing Papyrus into a tight hug.

It was not anywhere close to the spine-crushing squeezes Papyrus had been on the receiving end of so many times before. Instead, there was a hint of tentativeness to it, something tender and careful. Papyrus felt a wad of worry rise within his chest, becoming stuck at the very base of his throat.

“Undyne? Are you alright?” Papyrus asked, drawing away as her grip slackened.

“What? Of course I’m alright!” Undyne laughed, her single eye crinkling. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Undyne,” Papyrus said, drawing the vowels out in admonishment. “Don’t lie to me.”

A large sigh heaved itself from Undyne’s chest, her breath clouding the air for a moment before dissipating. “I’ll tell you in the car, alright? It’s nothing horrible, don’t look at me like that! Geez, this isn’t going at all like I wanted it to.”

Together, they entered the vehicle, shutting the doors to keep out the icy wind. Undyne brought the machine to life a moment later, its rumbling engine accompanied by a stream of warm air blowing from the vents. Pulling away from the curb, Undyne guided the car out onto the quiet road, deserted as it tended to be on a lazy Sunday. For a while, the interior of the car was wrought in uncomfortable silence, the tension oozing from Undyne’s every pore seemingly out to permeate everything within reach.

Papyrus wished he had kept his curiosity in check just this once.

“Alright,” Undyne said, after drawing a deep breath. “There’s been a development. A big one. Very important.”

“Oh!” Relief flooded Papyrus’ limbs, easing away the lump of fear in his chest. “That’s wonderful, Undyne! It… is a wonderful development, right?”

“I… yeah. Yeah, it is.” Undyne nodded, her brows furrowing for the briefest of moments. “It’s just… new. Very new. And a bit scary.”

A niggling suspicion reared its head in the very back of Papyrus’ mind. “Are you… are you and Alphys moving away?”

“Moving aw- no!” Undyne chortled, slapping her hand onto the edge of the steering wheel and the gesture was so much more like the old Undyne, it made the last vestiges of uncertainty flee from Papyrus’ mind. “No, we’re not moving away. The house is big enough and what would I do without my cooking partner, eh?”

“Indeed!” Papyrus nodded, accepting Undyne’s rough head rub with grace. “So, if you are not moving away, and the news are happy news, then what _are_ the news?”

“Alphys and I… we’re… we’re... _dammit_!” Undyne roared, pulling off the road to park the car with a quick jolt of the steering wheel and turning the motor off with fervour. “Why is this so hard to say! A baby! Alphys and I are going to be parents.”

A loud gasp escaped Papyrus’ gaping mouth, a surge of joy and utter disbelief following right after. “A baby! Undyne, that’s amazing!”

Deflating, Undyne plonked her forehead onto the wheel, mouth curving into a tiny, tremulous smile. “I know, right? It’s… Pap, I didn’t ever think it’d work. Alphys has been against the notion of having a child for so long, thinking she wouldn’t be a good parent what with all that’s happened. With all those things she’s… she’s done while down… while in the Underground. But she was so happy when we found out. You should’ve seen her, Pap, I have never seen her smile like that before, it was like there was a second sun right there in our living room.”

Without thought, Papyrus reached out, wrapping his arm around Undyne’s muscular shoulders. “It’s you who is carrying, isn’t it?”

Undyne snorted, leaning into Papyrus’ hold. “How’d you know?”

“You did not attempt to suplex me into a snowdrift when you arrived,” Papyrus answered with a sage nod.

Burbling laughter was Undyne’s delighted response. “Ah, yeah. You were always more observant than anyone ever gave you credit for.”

“Quite!” Papyrus tipped his head, nudging his cheek against Undyne’s hat. “How far along are you?”

Undyne shrugged. “Around four months. I have a doctor’s appointment scheduled for Wednesday to see how the little bean is doing.”

Thick silence fell, broken only by the asynchrony of their breathing. The car grew colder again, but Papyrus did not complain. Undyne had never been a particularly vulnerable person, settled and self-confident as she tended to be. Moments like these were seldom seen, and Papyrus could not help but feel honoured at her trust in him. They sat in stillness for a long while, neither of them speaking until Undyne sat up and shook her head as if to dispel an unwanted thought.

“Look at me, getting all soppy about having a baby,” Undyne scoffed, wiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her coat.

“It’s okay, Undyne,” Papyrus muttered, releasing Undyne from his grasp and deliberately not commenting on the saltine wetness smeared across her cheeks. “Having a baby can be very frightening. I can’t imagine how nervous you must have felt when you told Alphys about it. Do you remember how scared Sans was back when he was trying to tell Grillby he was going to be a father?”

“Oh, do I ever. Those two definitely deserve each other. What a mess that was!” Undyne smiled, a somewhat guilty twist to her lips. “But, I guess I understand why he was so scared now. In the end, you can’t shake that tiny bit of doubt. No one is ever that confident. Not even me.”

After another brief minute of hesitation, Undyne started the car again and they drove the rest of the way to their destination in comfortable silence.

Upon entering Undyne’s house, Papyrus was surprised to find Alphys in the living room, hammering away on something vaguely resembling a tiny, colourful cupboard. Undyne seemed unperturbed by her wife’s antics, stalking forward after abandoning her coat and boots in the anteroom. Papyrus watched as Undyne crouched down, pressing a loud kiss to the bony ridge sprouting from the top of Alphys’ skull before looping her arms around her wife.

“Alphys, Papyrus is here, we’re going to make food now,” Undyne declared, voice soft and lacking its usual coarseness.

“Oh!” Alphys squeaked, turning her head to peer past Undyne. “H-hello, Papyrus!”

Papyrus offered a quick wave and a smile. “Hello, Alphys!”

“H-how are you? A-are you feeling better?”

“Oh, yes. A lot better, thank you for asking!” Stepping closer, Papyrus lowered himself onto the ground, grunting as the buckle of his belt dug into the swell of his abdomen. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, this is, uh, going to be p-part of the n-nursery! But I think I m-might h-have to redo some portions, I’m not s-sure the orange w-will go with the red cushions we b… bought, y-you know?” Alphys sighed, patting the miniscule construction. “It’s a l-little box to… to put toys in.”

“I’m sure it will be perfect, whatever you decide to do in the end.” With a decisive hum, Papyrus made to stand, his hand reaching to use the small coffee table as leverage. “Shall we start cooking now, Undyne?”

“Oh, yes, go on ahead, I’ll be with you in a second,” Undyne replied, her face tucked against the nape of Alphys neck.

With a shake of the head and an indulgent smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Papyrus shuffled into the kitchen. It seemed Undyne’s emotions had not quite settled down just yet and Papyrus was happy to see her reaching out to Alphys, despite the obvious tension still lingering between them. Chancing a quick glance towards the couple huddled together on the floor, Papyrus busied himself with preparing the ingredients for today’s cooking session.

Despite Undyne’s questionable cooking tactics, she did ensure her kitchen was meticulously well-kept. Not a single dirty dish was to be found, the stove top had been cleaned not too long ago, the scent of citrus still lingering in the air, and the fridge was stocked. Sifting through the cupboards and drawers, Papyrus contemplated if cutting the tomatoes before Undyne returned to the kitchen would be considered a faux-pas. Probably.

Heaving a sigh, Papyrus rubbed a hand along the curve of his cheekbone. No matter, he would cut the onions and perhaps some carrots first. If Undyne had not joined him in the kitchen by then, Papyrus would continue the cooking by himself. The worst Undyne would do in response, was bestow a noogie on Papyrus’ head and considering the recent problems Papyrus’ magic had caused, getting knuckled across the skull was a mild compared to fainting in the middle of work.

Another headache began to niggle along the back of Papyrus’ head. The pain was dull, a consistent pressure, not debilitating like the sharp spikes of agony Papyrus had suffer through before. Still, it proved to be an annoyance, like a persistent percussion noise, drumming away in a monotone throb.

A sense of warmth settled against Papyrus’ arm, as if someone had moved close, their body heat seeping in through the fabric of his pullover. The air seemed to shift and a moment later, Papyrus was certain his own breathing had developed an echo. Unnerved, Papyrus held his breath, shuddering as the sound of a gentle exhale sounded from somewhere beside him. The unease shifted into something akin to fear. Was he being stalked? Surely, none of the ghostly monsters would stoop so low.

“Hello?” Papyrus whispered, his voice cracking.

Was he losing his mind?

“Whoever you are, playing pranks on someone like this is not funny,” Papyrus continued, clearing his throat while keeping his volume at an absolute minimum to avoid alerting the two lovebirds outside. “So, I would appreciate if you would stop. Or at least tell me who you are…?”

A long silence followed Papyrus’ request. Then, something fluttered against the jut of his cheekbone, like the caress of a hand, gentle, barely there. There was something achingly familiar about the sensation, carrying a parental tenderness Papyrus had only been privy to after meeting Toriel. It made no sense. It made no sense, and yet, somehow, Papyrus found himself attempting to lean into the touch.

“Pap?” Undyne’s voice rent through the thick atmosphere, tearing Papyrus from whatever trance he had tumbled into. “You didn’t start without me, did you?”

“No,” Papyrus replied, coughing to dislodge the lump in his throat. “No! I just started on getting out the utensils we will need, that’s all.”

“Good,” Undyne huffed, striding into the kitchen with a wide grin and suspiciously shiny eyes, coming to a halt beside Papyrus. “We still making spaghetti?”

“Absolutely!” Papyrus nodded, shaking off the strange nostalgia which had threatened to grip him just seconds before. “Would you like to chop the onions, Undyne? You did very well last time, though… I would advise a little less… momentum on the downward motions.”

“Oh, yeah.” A rough snort spluttered from Undyne’s mouth, cheeks flushing in a rare show of embarrassment. “Force of habit. I’ll do my best not to ruin another chopping board.”

Papyrus chuckled. “Then let's start cooking.”


End file.
